James is back on tour, on iTunes and doing it on his own terms

One more bite of the apple. It's the dream of every oldies act. And at age 58, Tommy James is getting one more chance at the charts.

From 1966 through 1971, first with the Shondells and then as a solo act, he registered 16 Billboard magazine Top-40 hits, including seven in the Top-10.

And the songs have endured -- who hasn't danced to "Mony Mony" or "Hanky Panky" or enjoyed "Draggin' the Line" or "Crimson and Clover" on a car radio? Even though he hasn't enjoyed a Top-40 hit since 1980, cover versions of his material by Joan Jett, Billy Idol, and Tiffany have since reached the charts. Now James himself is back. His new single, "Isn't That the Guy," is a surprise Top-10 on the adult contemporary charts. James' show at Aurora's Paramount Theatre with Chicago's own Buckinghams is part of a push behind the new single -- a campaign financed largely by James and his own label Aura.

"For the first time, an artist can deal directly with radio and retail," James says about his operation. "I'm really happy about doing that. Our new single and album -- tentatively titled `Hold the Fire' -- will be nationally distributed with iTunes and also on my Web site."

James' career first kicked into overdrive in 1966 when "Hanky Panky," recorded two years earlier, suddenly broke out in Pittsburgh. Nineteen-year-old James headed to New York and signed with Roulette Records, a legendary pop/R&B label headed by the notorious Morris Levy (the supposed inspiration for a character in "The Sopranos").

"He was a very . . . I don't want to say `sinister,'" James says, "but he had friends in places you don't want to go.

"Doing business with Morris was very tough. But he did give me the keys to the candy store, allowing me to make great records. He didn't sign many other acts when we were on the label; he didn't feel he needed to."

James racked up the hits, moving among genres and experimenting with different instruments and arrangements.

"Instead of just using guitars and drums, we were thinking of harps, harpsichords and piccolo trumpets," he said, referencing recordings such as "Sweet Cherry Wine," "Mirage," and "Out of the Blue."

"Truthfully, we were constantly just shooting from the hip. We were all over the place, from party rock to Latin sounds . . . it's kind of amazing to me to listen to them now. `Crystal Blue Persuasion' is my favorite song and favorite record from back then. It's difficult because I have a lot of more recent favorites, but that one sticks out."

Music has certainly changed since the era, and James' new material carries more of a classic rock/adult contemporary sound. He's learned firsthand the need to keep up.

"The singles market really died in late 1968," he recalls. "We were on the road with [presidential candidate Hubert] Humphrey's campaign. When we left, the Turtles, the Buckinghams, and the Rascals were selling a lot of singles. Soon after we came back in November, the big acts were groups like Blood, Sweat & Tears, Led Zeppelin, and Crosby, Stills and Nash -- all album acts."

James disbanded the Shondells in 1970. In the next decade, he recorded everywhere from Nashville to California with soul band Tower of Power.

Today, James is anything but sanguine about the music industry.

"Radio is segmented. What we used to call Top-40 is now broken into eight different categories; chart position is determined by the number of spins you get, rather than records you sell. This has led to all kinds of problems, including payola, because spins can be bought and sold. One thing that radio has to stop doing is taking money for playing records," he says. "It corrupts the process; the public is left out of the loop. Most stations don't even take requests anymore."

Young bands can't get discovered and record companies have lost touch with what the public wants to hear, he says.

"I'm getting a real education as to how the new music business works. I love making records and never wanted to do anything else. But the industry has to change. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out -- we need a melding between the public, record companies and radio. That melding was one great thing about the `60s."

James is touring less now and says he's happier and healthier. "The most I'll work is one night a week. It's the only way to keep your voice at top strength. When you do our show more than two nights a week, you can easily end up very hoarse."

Working at his own pace suits James just fine. "It's so much better now, first because it's for my own label, but also because now I have a calmness that I never had. You think for your first 15 years that they can take [your career] away from you if you don't work hard enough. But now, there's a bit more time to catch your breath.

"I know more than I've ever known. I see the business for what it is -- it's a wonderful business to be successful in, but a lousy business to be a failure in."